


Where Darkness Lies

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pottertalia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament has been revived, and England and the other magical nations are less than pleased. After England is invited to Hogwarts to teach and keep an eye on Harry Potter, the others follow along as government officials and students alike. Now, there's nations in Hogwarts...and Harry and his friends are starting to get a little suspicious. Set in 4th Year.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story posted on this site, so we'll see how it goes. I have literally no idea what I'm doing.

 

It was a normal day. It was drizzling outside, the remnants of a finished-up storm pattering gently on the windowpane. Sunlight peeked through the clouds, shining softly onto the outdated looking letter that sat unopened on England’s desk. The nation himself had chosen not to look at it, but instead focus on the spot of dust on the wall to his left. He was in his study, and the letter had arrived not even ten minutes ago. It had been raining quite a bit harder then, and the flustered barn owl had been soaked and shivering, knocking insistently on the glass with a single talon.

England, had of course, been quite miffed. He hadn’t had much contact with his wizarding world in quite some time, due to their conflicting views on the properties of what makes dark magic. The only nations he knew of who he was certain had relations with their Wizarding Worlds (Belarus, Prussia, Romania, and the Nordics) were more likely to send him letters the modern way, or to use their own animals. Prussia was the only one of them with a bird, and this owl was  _ certainly  _ not Gilbird.

Nevertheless, Arthur opened the window and let the sodden creature inside, casting a quick drying spell to make sure it didn’t get anything important wet. The now fluffy and dry bird held it’s leg out to England, gesturing for him to take the letter off its hands. Well...talons. He placed the letter on his desk and gave the bird a couple pats. The owl cooed and nuzzled his hand affectionately. Arthur smiled and gave it a few treats he’d had lying around for some of the other nation’s pet birds (Pierre was a pain, and Gilbird wouldn’t leave unless he got a treat for his hard work. Arthur usually had some on hand, just in case). The owl gobbled them up quickly, and fluttered over to his desk, where it was still sitting, waiting for Arthur to write a reply. All animals had a certain affinity for nations, but magical ones especially. It was always enough to put a smile on his face.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, brooding. The only person he could think of who would send him a letter by owl was...well no, it couldn’t be. He had Fawkes, after all. Dumbledore wouldn’t use an owl unless Fawkes was unavailable or he was trying to be subtle. That actually made quite a bit of sense now that he thought of it - things had gotten rather hectic in the Wizarding World lately, what with the escape of Sirius Black and all. England knew Sirius Black was innocent - he’d felt it when Peter Pettigrew killed those people and escaped - but the wizards didn’t. Honestly, how stupid were they? If they’d just put Black on some sort of truth potion or veritaserum, or looked through his memories in a Pensieve, they’d see that he was innocent. But no, they had all jumped the gun and thrown him in bloody Azkaban. 

But back to the point. England picked up the letter, broke the nondescript seal and lifted out a piece of folded parchment. He opened it, and began to read the slanting script.

_ Dear Arthur, _

_ I know you have been avoiding the Wizarding World for quite some time. I cannot blame you - at times I wish I had that luxury as well. However, as one of the creators of the Triwizard Tournament - _ Arthur sucked in a horrified breath -  _ I felt that you had the right to know this. This year at Hogwarts, we will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, with Durmstrang and Beauxbatons visiting to compete. What makes this even more dangerous is the fact that Harry Potter is in his fourth year of schooling, and I am quite concerned that there will be an attempt on his life. That is why I must ask you to come to Hogwarts this year. To teach, observe, or study, I do not care. For teaching, we have our History of Magic position open, and I know you would do well in this. But it does not matter, all of these are fine, but I implore you to come to Hogwarts, and perhaps notify some of your associates to do the same. There are great dangers lurking in the Wizarding World at the moment, and I am sure you know of this. Please send me a reply, even if you deem not to agree. _

_ Your old friend, _

_ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore _

 

England refolded the letter with trembling hands. Why were they resurrecting the Tournament? It had been something he, Norway, and France had created in a very different time. It was barbaric, violent, and dangerous. He and Norway had worked hard to get it terminated, and here the wizards were, bringing it back so soon, like it was nothing! He supposed he should notify Norway and France first about this development. France had cut all ties with the Wizarding World and stopped practicing magic quite some time ago, even with his massive magical community, but he knew he would like to know. But first, Dumbledore. England wasn’t sure how much longer his owl’s patience would last.

England pulled an old piece of parchment and a hardly used quill from his desk, and sat down to write a simple reply. Teaching...England loved teaching. And History of Magic was right up his alley. 

_ Dear Albus, _

_ I am quite concerned that the Tournament has been revived, and I will indeed be notifying my ‘associates’. I accept your teaching offer. History of Magic should be something I can handle quite well. Some of my ‘associates’ may come along as observers or officials for their magical governments, so do not be alarmed. This is certainly a very serious manner. I’ll take the train to Hogwarts on September 1st. Thank you for notifying me of this development. _

_ Kind regards, _

_ Arthur Kirkland _

England folded the letter, placed it into a nondescript envelope, and tied it to the barn owl’s waiting leg. “Thank you, my friend,” he gave it another pat as he opened the window, and with a few soft hoots, the owl flew into the slightly cloudy sky. Arthur opened up his computer. It would be easiest to email if he was trying to reach several nations at a time. But which nations did he contact? Arthur pondered this for a few moments.

_ Well, obviously the Nordics, Belarus, Romania, and Prussia. They’re the ones with legal sway in the Wizarding World, so they can come in as government officials. And I’ll have to notify France, as well, because of Beauxbatons. I suppose that git Scotland will need to know as well, but he isn’t going to want to come along. Who else knows about magic...well, I know China practices, or used too, but he’s cut off from the government. Japan and the Baltics as well. Then there’s Hungary...she doesn’t practice magic, but I’ve heard of her fondness for dragons. Well, I guess she doesn’t need to know...but the rest can all come in as guests or observers, perhaps...well, the Baltics can. I don’t think the Asian nations will want any part. Alright, I’ll notify them, but I’m only going to invite European nations as observers. _

England quickly typed out an email to the other nations. The European nations already had a sort of ‘magic council’ formed, but he felt obligated to inform the other practicing magical nations as well.

_ To: Natalya Arlovskaya, Gilbert Beilschmidt, Lukas Bondevik, Matthias Køhler, Tino Väinämöinen, Berwald Oxenstierna, Emil Steilsson, Toris Laurinaitis, Eduard Von Bock, Raivis Galante, Vladimir Lupei, Alistair Kirkland, Francis Bonnefoy, Kiku Honda, Yao Wang _

_ Hello, everyone. I’m emailing all of you because of a recent development in the United Kingdom’s Wizarding World. I’ve been invited to Hogwarts, our magical school in Scotland, to teach History of Magic this year, but not for a very happy reason. We’re all familiar with the Triwizard Tournament, and this year it has been resurrected. It will be hosted at Hogwarts, with Durmstrang and Beauxbatons visiting, so I implore those of you who are Europeans and have connections to your magical government to come to Hogwarts during this time as government officials. The Headmaster is very concerned about the safety of the tournament, especially that of one Harry Potter, who will be entering his fourth year. Those of you without government ties are welcome to come as observers, teaching assistants, or students - I think I’d like all the help I can get. (And Alistair: you are only on this because Hogwarts is in your area, and I thought you should know where I’d be, since you’ll be doing all of my paperwork while I’m gone.) _

_ Thank you for your time, _

_ England _

After pressing send, England immediately slumped over in his chair. Arthur had a feeling this was going to be a long year. He stood up regretfully, and marched over to the kitchen to fix a cup of tea. After setting the water to boil, England walked down to the basement and to one of his numerous storage cupboards. Coughing at all the dust that had come spilling out when he opened it, England sifted through the mass of useless knick knacks and magical devices before finally finding what he was looking for - his wand.

England hadn’t needed a wand for a long time, he’d always been well off with wandless magic. But he knew that it would seem strange for someone so young-looking to be so proficient in wandless magic, so he was confined to using a wand again. The horrors. 

England walked back upstairs and poured himself some tea. Taking a languid sip, he closed his eyes and sighed. Yes, this would be a long year...but it would sure be an interesting one...

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Prussia whistled as he checked his emails. He hadn’t had time to lately, but it didn’t look like he’d missed anything too important...oh, scratch that.  _ Why is England emailing me?  _ He frowned as he clicked on the tab, and frowned even harder as he read what England had sent.  _ The Triwizard Tournament is being revived? What the fuck?  _ He leaned back in his chair, thinking.  _ Well, I can obviously go as a government official for Germany, under the pretense of...seeing if the tourney is safe enough for it to be held in Germany?  _ He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Look out, Hoggywarts, for the awesome Prussia is in the house!” He cackled in that strange, hissing way, and then amended his statement. “Well, not yet, of course! BUT I WILL BE! RIGHT, GILBIRD?” 

Gilbird chirped harmoniously in reply, and Gilbert cackled once more. After Prussia was dissolved, Gilbert had not only become the representative of East Germany, but also the Germanic magical community. He’d had dealings with the wizards before, so he’d already known magic, but becoming Magical Germany had given him a surplus of power that he wasn’t always sure what to do with.

_ Well, this’ll sure be fun.  _ Prussia smirked.  _ Who else is invited? The Nordics, Romania, Belarus, France, and the Baltics. That’s a...fun group.  _ He knew that since the Nordics refused to relay the location of Durmstrang to the other countries, they could all go in as representatives of Durmstrang, each from one of the Nordic countries’ magical governments. Except for Iceland...but with his young appearance, he could easily pass for a student from Durmstrang or exchange student. Now that he thought about it, they could get Belarus and the Baltics in that way as well (he knew no one would believe Latvia was a government official).

France was another story. Gilbert was 99.9% sure that he’d cut off ties with the French magical communities many years ago. The only reason he’d been contacted was because Beauxbatons was competing, and because Francis was one of the original founders of the Triwizard Tournament. Gilbert was pretty sure Francis would prefer not to come at all. Of course, this was upsetting, because France was one of Gilbert’s best friends. But he knew that France wouldn’t have a good time adjusting to being exposed to the magical community again, and it would be difficult to find a reason to let him in, so he knew it was better off this way.

Gilbert stood up and stretched, throwing his hands in the air and yawning loudly. Gilbird chirped once more, flying over and settling in Prussia’s silver hair. “Alright, Gilbird,” He threw a wizard’s cloak over his shoulders, and reached up to give the bird a pat. “Let’s go meet with that unawesome Minister of Magic,  _ ja _ ?” Gilbird cheeped an affirmative, and Prussia laughed. It was time to visit the Germanic Ministry.

**…**

“Big brother! Are we really going to the Quidditch World Cup?” 

Romania smiled at Moldova, his fangs in full view. “Yep! You remember the rules, right? Bulgaria’s team is competing this year, so even if he doesn’t come along, we’re gonna have to tell him what happens!”

Bulgaria rolled his eyes from where he was sitting on the couch. Bulgaria was aware of his magical community, but had never practiced himself, despite Romania egging him on. Moldova looked slightly sheepish, playing with the hem of his patchwork coat. “Could you explain again? I’m sure Mr. Bulgaria would like to know too!” Moldova pleaded, shifting from foot to foot as he looked at his big brother’s best friend. “Why not? It can’t hurt!” Romania proceeded to go into a lengthy explanation of the sport, Moldova listening eagerly while Bulgaria continued to read. 

Romania scooted over to where Bulgaria sat on the couch, sitting down next to him boisterously and almost knocking the book from his hands. “Well, Bulgaria?” He said, red eyes twinkling. “Will you come with us? Please, I got the tickets thinking of you! Your team is really good this year, you won’t be disappointed! Come on, it’s marvelous, you have to see it! Besides,” he said, his voice becoming a bit more solemn, “We won’t have much time together this year, since I’m going to Arthur’s school, remember?”

Both Bulgaria and Moldova became more serious at this. The email had come a day or two ago, and Romania had immediately agreed. Bulgaria would be taking care of Moldova while he was gone, but Moldova seemed awfully distressed to be away from his brother for so long. Bulgaria set his book down, turning to face Romania. “Okay, I’ll go. Just...explain it one more time.” Moldova cheered, and Romania’s eyes sparkled mischievously. While Romania once more launched into a detailed explanation of rules and descriptions, Bulgaria smiled, and leaned his head on his friend’s shoulder. It couldn’t be too strange, right?

**…**

“Miss Natalya?”

Belarus jumped, startled from her daydream. With practiced ease, she whipped around and pressed a knife to the throat of the offending voice. Her eyes were hard, face expressionless, as she searched the gaze of a startled young woman. Natalya retracted her knife, and the woman fell to the floor, terrified.

“What is it?” Natalya said, not unkindly. She didn’t apologize, but she did feel a little bad. She’d just been...on edge lately. The other girl scrambled to her feet. “Um. I was asked to find out how long you’d be gone.”

Of course. Most of the politicians in Belarus were scared of Natalya (wasn’t everyone?) so they’d sent a secretary in their place. Belarus turned around again. “I’ll be gone for an indeterminate amount of days. If they complain, tell them that it’s not like I would be doing anything anyways.” Natalya answered curtly, staring out the window of the government building they were standing in. It was true - while nations used to have large amount of sway in politics, most of them these days preferred to stay uninvolved, Belarus included.

The secretary squeaked a ‘yes miss’, and fled the room at top speed. Natalya, lost in thought once more, gripped the handle of her black and silver wand, which she’d been hiding in her sleeve. During her early days, Natalya, as the only one of her siblings willing to acknowledge magic, had involved herself in all three of their magical communities, all of which were not lacking in size.

During the Soviet Era, she’d helped out the magical governments of the other Soviets too, but now she was just back to the original three, and that satisfied her. She could go to England’s school as a government official. However, Natalya looked young. And since the magical governments in Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus had little to do with the governments of the more Western European countries, she didn’t think she could pull it off.

Belarus tilted her head a bit, thinking. Then - of course. She could go in as an exchange student. She could easily pass for someone in their sixth year, but since the boy-who-lived was in his fourth year, it would be more favorable for them to be the same age. That wouldn’t be too hard to fix, though. When you’re alive as long as Belarus has been, you pick up a few tricks. It would be easy to alter her age to look younger.

Belarus finally stopped staring out the window and turned around, picking up her trunk. She’d be going to stay in England right away - it was near midsummer, and Diagon Alley would be bustling. Plus, she’d need the Headmaster of Hogwarts’ cooperation if she wanted to get in as an exchange student. With a swish of her wand, she soundlessly cast the age altering spell. Not too much changed, the most noticeable thing would be the several inches of height she lost. With a loud  _ crack!  _ Natalya apparated away.

**…**

“Hey, Lithuania? Have you seen this?” Lithuania looked up from the cup of coffee he was nursing to where Eduard was parked in front of one of his numerous laptops. “Seen what, Estonia? Is it another meme?”

For the briefest moment, Estonia appeared to sparkle, but when Lithuania blinked, there was nothing there anymore. Estonia sighed. “As much as I wish it was, I’m talking about England’s email.” Toris raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I saw it a couple of days ago. I’m surprised you haven’t.” Estonia waved his hand dismissively. “I usually ignore England’s emails these days, but...what do you think of all this?”

Toris stood up and walked over to where his friend was sitting. During the Soviet era, the Baltics had been little more than acquaintances. Now, however, the three Baltic countries were close friends. Lithuania set down his coffee on the table and tapped his chin. “Well, I’d like to go,” Toris said. “And I think Raivis does too.” Estonia and Lithuania turned to where the third and final Baltic state lay sleeping on the couch, clutching a pillow. “Yeah, I think it’d be best if we went as students. I mean...look at him.” Estonia gestured to where their young-looking friend lay sleeping. Lithuania nodded in agreement. “The spell won’t be too hard for us, and we won’t need to change how Latvia looks at all.”

Lithuania nodded once more. He was a little excited now - it had been pretty dull these past few weeks. Estonia smiled brightly. “Well, it’s settled! We’ll go to Hogwarts as students and watch this tournament and protect this Harry kid! And I’ll set up an internet connection for those poor, suffering children!”

“Estonia, no.”

“Estonia, YES.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The timeline on this is altered to a more modern day one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for all the kudos! Sorry for the boring filler chapter - they're necessary, I swear. Thanks for reading!

"NORGE! LOOK, I JUST THREW MY AXE AND IT HIT THE TARGET DEAD-CENTER! LOOK!"

Norway sighed and lifted his calculating violet eyes to where Denmark was pointing. He'd set up some sort of target on the side of the house yesterday, and had refused to leave it since. "I saw. You've been able to do that since childhood, Mathias."

Denmark grinned and pulled the axe from the target easily, swinging it around as if it weighed nothing at all. He then put the axe away...somewhere...and jogged over to where Norway had been sitting on the porch for the last hour. "So? Whaddya think about England's thing, hmm?"

"Thing?"

"Ya know, the thing. With the Triwizard Tournament."

Norway frowned. "Ah, yes, the thing. At Arthur's horrifically named school." Denmark laughed boisterously at that, clapping Norway on the back so hard he almost lost his breath. "Kinda weird that they're reviving it now, huh? I mean, it's been a while. I'm pretty sure it was terminated for a reason."

Norway 'hmmed' in response, tapping his chin. "Sweden and Finland aren't going to be able to go, at least full time. They've got Sealand and Ladonia to look after. So it'll just be us and Iceland if we decide to go."

Denmark smiled blindingly. "An adventure to a magic school with my two favorite people in the world? Count me in!" Norway rolled his eyes at this, turning away from Denmark to eye the sun that was beginning to set in the distance. "So...we're going?" Denmark put his chin on Norway's shoulder, his eyes pleading. Norway gave him a deadpan look and shrugged him off. "I guess. Just need to check with little brother." Denmark hummed happily, turning away from Norway to march into the house. Norway stayed outside a bit longer, his violet eyes lingering on the colors flooding the sky, before standing up and entering the house once more.

**…**

Francis groaned, his head in his hands as he gazed at the email England had sent out recently. _Ugh..._

France was most certainly not interested in returning to the magical world. He'd left that behind long ago, and he was going to keep it that way. Of course, he appreciated England sending him the email, but it had brought along with it enough mental torment to last him the decade. He regretted his participation in creating the tournament - he was sure they all did. But France had no intention of returning to the magical world in any way. He was fine the way he was, and besides, he was never all that talented to begin with. The others could handle this on their own. He'd be fine with just getting updates every now and then. Yes, that's what he'd do. He returned his gaze to his laptop, and after clicking around a bit, began to type.

_To: Arthur Kirkland_

_Bonjour Angleterre,_

_I am sure that you know I am not going to be taking a part in all of this. However, I would like some updates every now and then - how the tournament is going and such._

_Au revoir,_

_Francis Bonnefoy_

**…**

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys hurried along with the crowd into the torch-lit woods, clutching the purchases they'd made from vendors beforehand. Ron was practically shaking with excitement as he stared at the Viktor Krum figurine he'd bought.

The Quidditch World Cup was about to start, and Harry couldn't be more excited. They walked through the woods for about twenty minutes, until they finally emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of an immense stadium. "Seats a hundred thousand," Mr. Weasley remarked, seeing the wondrous look on Harry's face. "Ministry task force of five hundred been working on it all year. Muggle repelling charms on every inch of it. Every time muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they suddenly remember they've got urgent appointments elsewhere...bless them," he added fondly, leading the way to the closest entrance, which was already swarmed by shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" Called a Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, as far as you can go."

Mr. Weasley thanked her and their group headed towards the stairs. They clambered on upwards with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away into the doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's group kept climbing, until they reached the top of the staircase and filed into the Top Box. It wasn't very big, with about twenty-five purple-and-gilt chairs in rows, and was situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. Harry looked across the stadium in wonder - it was nothing like he'd ever seen before.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their seats around the stadium, seats which rose in levels around the long oval field. The field looked smooth as velvet from Harry's position, and everything was suffused in a mysterious golden light.

Tearing his eyes away from the wondrous sight, Harry looked to see who they were sharing the box with. The only other inhabitant at this point was a small creature Harry recognized immediately. " _Dobby?"_ he said incredulously. The creature looked up, and Harry knew he had been wrong. While this creature looked like Dobby, it certainly was not him.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" the house elf squeaked curiously from between its fingers. Ron and Hermione spun around, hoping to finally meet Dobby, who they still had not encountered, despite Harry telling them of him. "Sorry, I though you were someone I knew," Harry said. "But I know Dobby too, sir!" The house elf squeaked. "My name is Winky, sir - and surely you is Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am."

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" She looked slightly awestruck.

After a brief conversation on how freedom was treating Dobby, and Winky's master, Harry stood by the railing with Ron and Hermione, Ron playing around with his new Omnioculars, and Hermione flipping through a program.

" _Tezi mesta sa dosta navisoko…"_ Harry glanced over to where he could hear someone talking as several people seemed to be navigating the staircase. He turned to Hermione, but she answered his question before he could ask.

"It's probably Bulgarian," she said, still flipping through the pamphlet. Harry eyed the entrance once more, and soon, the first other group of people joined the box.

The first one looked normal enough. He was an incredibly handsome young man with combed dark hair and half-lidded green eyes. He was scarf with the red-white-and-green Bulgarian flag on it, and smiled at them briefly turned around to wait for his companions. Ginny and Hermione exchanged an awestruck look, eyeing the man as he peered down the stairwell and shouted something in Bulgarian.

The voice that replied was in a different language, thoroughly confusing the Weasley party, but the man seemed to understand. The man who had replied appeared in the entrance, and several people sucked in shocked breaths. The man was a vampire.

Or at least, Harry thought he was. He was yet another incredibly handsome man, with long strawberry blonde hair and a big smile. But it was the smile that Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from. Because the man had _fangs_. And red eyes, Harry noted, looking up to see the man's eyes meeting those of his friend.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered. "I didn't think vampires were real!"

The man didn't seem to hear, and instead stepped aside to reveal his hand clasped with that of a little boy's. The little boy was like a younger version of him, right down to the red eyes and...fangs…

Hermione chastised Ron discretely. "That's rude, Ron! I'm sure he's just a…" she trailed off, trying to search for the right words. Ron looked skeptical still, as did the rest of the people in the box.

The men turned to them, smiling, and the vampire-like one waved a hand in greeting. " _Buna seara!_ My name is Vladimir Lupei, and I'm a representative from the Romanian Ministry. This is Minel -" he gestured at the dark haired man - "and this is Aurel." He gestured to the little boy, who smiled cheerily. "We were invited here by the Bulgarian Minister - he's a friend of ours. Your names are…?"

Mr. Weasley looked a bit flustered, and extended a hand in greeting, which Vladimir took and shook firmly. "Arthur Weasley, a pleasure to meet you. I work in the British Ministry." "Nice to meet you, Arthur," Minel said, tugging on his Bulgarian scarf. At that moment, several other people started to come into the box, and as both Arthur and the strange looking Vladimir Lupei moved to meet them, Harry tore his gaze away and fixed it on the Quidditch pitch.

Thinking about possible vampires could wait for another time.


End file.
